A place where one of the Eric Rasmussens out there uploads various writings.

Sunday, August 2, 2015

The Life of a Mechanical Idiot

Evidence #1: I don’t remember if I was 6 or 18. The older I
was, the more pathetic this story is, so let’s say 8. It was probably 14. My
father, his father, and I stood in front of the garage across the road from the
family’s cabin up north. Something needed building, and it was a three-person
job. I fetched tools, and when I didn’t know which one it was that had been
requested (for a big chunk of years the whole pliers/wrench division was pretty
hazy for me), I brought an assortment. Then, the thing being built required two
pieces of wood nailed together, and my dad looked at me and said, “Why don’t
you take care of that.”

Well, holy hell.

That's not a bad looking basement. Wonder who did that?

This was not just the bonding of two pieces of wood with a
sharp piece of metal. This was a pivotal opportunity to prove my manhood to my
dad, and to prove to my grandpa how good of a job his son had done in raising a
strong, skilled boy who was more than capable of hitting a nail firmly in a
downward motion so as to drive it into the wood. I found a hammer and squared
my shoulders. Dad crouched down next to me, and grandpa leaned forward with his
hands on his knees. I breathed deep and visualized my stroke. I kept my eye on
the nail.

I missed with the first hit, and hit my thumb with the
second. I finally made contact with the third and bent the nail sideways, and
kept hammering until dad wrestled the hammer away from me. He asked for a
needle nose pliers. I brought him a vice grip.

That accent wall looks like it took a lot of skill.

Evidence #2: My wife and I bought a house, and I wanted to
make my mark, a tiny mark, barely noticeable, but something I could point out
to all the friends and relatives who would eventually stop by for tours. I
tried installing a shelf. “Oh yeah, you see that shelf? That was me. I put that
up.” It was a glass corner shelf in the bathroom. Screw the two metal pieces
into the wall (which had to be level, for all of you who have never installed a
shelf), then slide the glass piece into the slots. Can’t get much easier than
that.

Except one of the screws would not go into the wall. I tried
my drill, and then a screwdriver, then swearing, then throwing things, then
squinty-eyed rage. Behind the wall was either the chimney or some ductwork or
an undiscovered vein of pure titanium. I got so mad I had to take a walk.

I would like to sit in that well-crafted basement.

When I got back, I pushed the glass into the slots, one side
with only one screw. The bastard held lotion just fine until we moved.

Evidence #3: I am smart, and I can learn, so I just needed
practice. Right? Careful thought and analysis can solve any problem. So when
the guy at Sears asked if I wanted them to install the new garage door opener,
I laughed. “Are you kidding? Do I look like one of those types of guys? No, no.
No no no. I can handle that myself.”

I got the garage door opener installed. And it worked. It
only took me eight hours, the first day. Seven hours the second day. And three
hours the next evening to get the stupid little sensors aligned. Totally worth
it.

Conclusion: I was bad at mechanical stuff. I did not possess
that type of intelligence. My dad tried to teach me, and I was a terrible
pupil. When I was a kid the Star Wars universe books offered far more
excitement than learning the difference between a “nut” and a “bolt.” But I
know that now. Bolts are like screws, but flat instead of pointy. Nuts are the
round things that screw onto bolts. Try me. I know what washers are, too.

The bathroom. I installed those mirrors, too.

There are throngs of dudes and ladies out there who are like
me. They get their first houses and all of sudden choosing a choir class over a
tech ed class in high school becomes the stupidest decision they ever made, if
you exclude the choir trip to Winnipeg on the big coach bus where they sat next
to so-and-so and played you-know-what and it was AWESOME. Just to be clear, I am
not offering to help with anyone’s projects. To all of you, staring at your
tilted shelves and loose wires and leaky faucets and exposed studs, I just want
to say, you can do it. Check Youtube and take a deep breath.

My project this summer was to update our basement. I
installed laminate flooring on one wall, painted, replaced the light fixtures,
built a department store storage cube piece, hung the pictures, picked new
furniture, and it looks frickin’ amazing. Next week I’m going to install some
gutters. I’ve replaced toilets, faucets, outlets, installed laminate tile
flooring, and I’m still a home improvement novice, but I’ve got a solid pile of
mechanical skill points chalked up, and I can name every tool in my workbench. Okay.
Most of them.